Ignore, fair love, my every advance, but
Shore's will show I am but a lance away
From you, every night and every day! Tut
Tut if you will at my foolish display;
As I walk along the beach and the quay
I will beseech you both night and day! Shut
Not your eyes in my presence, array but
Small glances in my direction; that with
This small hope I may deign to know inside
You are truly my true love, have not lied!
Yet assumed did I of your love concealed
Beneath the arduous love you revealed
To the man who stands by your side, at noon;
Deceiving thus you have made a buffoon.
Deceived, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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